Some Leave, Some Return, Some Never Come Back
by Mishitaka
Summary: She was fire. Strong. Passionate. Reckless.She was water. Cool. Calm. Reasonable.Can two forces, so different, yet so hopelessly intertwined in fate, come together to conquer all? Femmeslash rated M for later chapters. GWHG.
1. 1 What's in a Flame?

Disclaimer: I clearly don't own anything within the Harry Potter universe, or I would not be huddled in a corner of my dorm room writing a dorky fanfiction. No offense, not to call you a dork for reading fanfics, I just assume since I'm a dork, and I read and enjoy them, well, others must be dorks also. Alas, I digress! Read and hopefully enjoy. :) This is my first fic I've written, but I'm a longtime reader, so hopefully it doesn't suck terribly.

I suppose for this story, just imagine that DH never happened, yet the crew is all out of Hogwarts, graddyated and such…I'll get into more detail later. Voldy's still on the loose, though. Woo hoo! On with the half-assed story.

**Some Leave, Some Return, Some Never Come Back**

**Chapter One**

**What's in a Flame? **

_I put everything of yours away. _

_Every letter, drawing, picture, trinket, anything and everything that had to do with you. It's already been so long and I still hadn't done it. Although I haven't seen you for months, and haven't talked to you for even longer, it was still really hard to do. I read every single word you ever wrote to me, and it was like taking a step back to that time. I couldn't help but laugh sometimes at the things you said to me there, and cry at some things no one had ever said to me before, things no one will ever say to me again. Not the way you did, anyways. I guess that's why it meant so much to me, and why I miss it. You didn't have to leave that day. I wish you hadn't. I had finally found something, someone worth giving a damn about, that made me feel like I was wanted and needed, but he took you away from me. _

_Then I left. _

_It was far too hard, being in that place, where every corridor, every room, every niche and cranny held a thousand memories with you, and your ghost would haunt my steps wherever I went. I couldn't outrun what was inside of myself though…and that's exactly where you were. You still are, in a way I can't really explain. My own personal hell was burning inside of me every day, month after month, I couldn't do it. There was no answer, no truth, no closure, nothing. I thought about it so much. I wondered, maybe, just maybe if I went, I'd see you there. Maybe you'd be waiting for me somewhere. _

_Only you know for sure, though. I'll find out someday._

She chewed on the end of her quill thoughtfully, before sighing in defeat and putting her old diary back underneath her pillow. Despite the scarring experience she had in her youth revolving around a similar small leather diary, she needed a place to pour all of her thoughts, feelings, and the odd bit of poetry or prose into. She had been a little more careful this time however, purchasing her own book from Flourish and Blotts, and making certain that this diary didn't write back. She had entertained the notion of purchasing a pensive for herself, but quickly dismissed the idea. They were quite expensive, and despite having a steady job, it was a luxury she was pretty certain she couldn't afford at the moment. She wasn't quite sure she'd want to dredge up some of the older, painful memories she had locked inside. Memories she'd tried to block from her train of thought, memories that came back to visit her in her dreams…recollections of Tom ripping her mind from her consciousness, leaving her floating, numb, in a vast ocean of instability, when she had though for certain she was dead. Memories of the night she had her heart torn out, when the one person she trusted and gave her whole shoved it back in her face, like she wasn't good enough.

'_Snap out of it, Weasley. You're being fucking ridiculous._' She thought to herself, strengthening her resolve and moving across her flat to her desk to begin the pile of paperwork tossed unceremoniously on the weathered wooden surface. She massaged her temples as she sat down in the uncomfortable, stiff wooden chair she kept in front of her desk. It was incentive to do her work faster, so she could curl up in her battered, but cozy armchair in front of the fire to relax.

Ginevra Weasley, employed as an Auror by the remainder of the Ministry of Magic, despised paperwork. She had thought being a dark wizard catcher, of all things, would be a sure way to avoid being hunched over a desk for hours on end, filling out mindlessly dull forms and reports. Unfortunately, along with being a downright exhausting job physically, Aurors had to constantly write out detailed accounts of their encounters and arrests. That being said, the better you were at your job, the more work you ended up having to do.

'_I just can't seem to catch a break these days.'_ She thought morosely, before dipping the tip of her quill in a bottle of ink and taking the first piece of parchment from the seemingly never-ending stack of parchment before her.

After making a considerable dent in the stack of papers, Ginevra rose slowly to her feet, cracking her stiff neck and back, and trudged slowly across her flat to the old futon she utilized as a bed. She had what some would consider low class accommodations, a single studio flat with a small bathroom in the far right corner being the only part walled off from the rest of the room. She figured it didn't pay to become too attached to home anyways, seeing as she'd moved around an average of once every few months to keep from being discovered by Voldemort's forces. She usually kept the lights off, preferring the fire to warm her and provide a comfortable dimness border lining on darkness. She found comfort in darkness these days, unlike most, comfort in the fact that no one could see her. She had always been able to see quite well in the dark, being able to make out forms and shapes of things reasonably clearly with little to no light. She never knew if that was a common trait or not, but hadn't bothered to ask anyone about it all of her 24 years.

As she stretched out on her makeshift bed, she let her eyes travel from the gentle flames licking the walls of the fireplace up to the low ceiling, watching the patterns the fire cast on the chipped grey paint coating. It had become a sort of game for her to try and decide what the patterns resemble, and she would end up dozing off after awhile anyways. As long as it helped her get to sleep, she didn't care how lame it was. Tonight, the flames swayed gently up and down, weaving slowly and rhythmically past each other as the fire died quietly in the hearth.

'_It reminds me of water…a stream, or a lake._' She concluded silently to herself, while an uncomfortable feeling began to surface inside of her. '_Funny, having fire remind me of water. They are complete opposites… fire raging, burning, passionate and strong…and water, soothing, calm, cool and reasonable…flames are so powerful, they can consume earth, air, flesh and bone… but even fire can't hope to conquer water_. _It's like a tragic love story… two equally powerful forces, strong in their own way, never able to be together for fear of one destroying the other completely. Everything has a weakness…even me…especially me.' _ She thought dejectedly, and rolled over on her side so her back was facing the wall.

It was only as she drifted off into a restless sleep that she began to realize why the knot in her stomach was so tight she could hardly breathe by the time she was through contemplating the flames.

A/N: So I just had to give it a shot, there will be femmslash later on. Can't help it, I'm a fan of GW/HG. If its rubbish let me know, I probably won't really give a shite. It's short because I just wrote it and now its past 5am and I should go to bed! Reviews appreciated. :)


	2. 2 Mirrors, Memories, and Mysteries

Disclaimer: Not mine. Boo. But at least I'm having a good time pretending… and I made up a word. Espionmages…Wizard spies! I'm proud :) On with the fic!

Chapter Two

Mirrors, Memories and Mysteries

"_Ginny…" She said softly, avoiding meeting her gaze with substantial effort._

"_What's up, Mione?" She asked casually, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of soft brown hair behind the older girl's ear, only to have her turn her head to the left, away from her touch._

"_There's something…it's just…we really need to talk, Gin…" She blurted out in a hushed whisper, still unable to meet the red-haired witch's gaze._

_Now Ginny knew something was wrong. It was one thing for Hermione to be a bit distant, but it was an entire other thing for her to actively avoid Ginny's gaze, Ginny's touch, everything she had said meant the world and more to her._

"_We talk all the time…" She tried to dismiss Hermione's statement lamely, but neither girl was fooled by her weak attempt at casualty._

"_No, Gin… I mean talk. Really talk. About the future, us, everything…" she trailed off, staring out the window of the sixth year dormitory window, her face unreadable._

"_Okay…so talk to me. You know I'm here for you, Hermione. I meant it when I said I always would be. You don't have to keep things from me…I care about you more than anything, there's nothing I can't handle." She stated with strength in her voice. She knew what she and Hermione had was special, rare, amazing, and ever since her fifth year she'd been in constant awe of the auburn-haired witch who had fallen in love with her, of all people, gangly, quidditch-loving Ginevra Weasley._

_Ginny's last statement, however, brought a fresh batch of tears to the older girl's face._

"_Ginny… I-I just can't do this anymore…" She choked out, burying her face in her hands. "There's just too much hate… no one understands, my parents, they would never approve… My cousin Gary came to Christmas with a boyfriend was politely, yet forcefully asked to leave by my father and his brothers… I just can't let them down like that, Gin, I've always been their perfect girl, their infallible daughter, and I just can't break their hearts like this… I know you love me, and I love you, too, but I just can't abandon my family like this, it goes against everything I believe in…" She finished quietly, tears streaming silently down her flushed cheeks, leaving trails of anguish and pain on her face that only Ginny could see._

"_But…Hermione… if they really love you, they won't care who you decide to spend your life with… you should know that… true love conquers all." She scrambled to counter this bombshell, fighting to keep the dams of water from bursting forth from behind her crystal blue eyes._

'_This can't be happening…this isn't happening… there's no way… she loves me… I love her… Please, God, anyone, please, no…' She thought desperately to herself, pulling frantically at the hem of her too-small hand-me-down sweater beneath her jet-black school robes._

"_Ginny please… don't make this harder than it has to be… I just need to go on with my life, make my parents happy; they never deserved to have their dreams of their only daughter getting married to a handsome young man crushed like this… Ron loves me, I know he does, and if you really love me, Gin, you'll let me go… It's just the way it has to be…" She stated quietly, tears still streaming down her face._

_The force of her words slammed into Ginny's chest like a tidal wave. Her throat was tight, and all the managed to get out was a choked sob. She heard the telltale squeak of the bedsprings as Hermione rose, and the familiar pressure from her embrace around her torso. She gave in to her emotions and wrapped her arms around the shorter girl's shoulders, her body shuddering with every shaky breath she took. _

"_Ginny…" Hermione breathed softly into her neck, and she could feel the warm wetness where her tears smeared against her skin. "I'll never love anyone like I love you, Gin." _

_Her words sent shivers down Ginny's spine, which were quickly replaced by shudders as she took another long, shaky breath._

"_Hermione...I-" She was cut off by the feel of the older girl's hand on the left side of her face, running her silky soft thumb over the wetness left by the tears she tried too hard to keep inside, tilting her head downward, slowly, until their lips crashed together hungrily, and Ginny screwed her eyes shut, pulling Hermione closer, running her hand through her honey-brown hair. This couldn't be the last time…_

_They stayed lock in their embrace for what seemed like an eternity, but it would never be enough. Eternity came to an end as Hermione pulled away slowly, but forcefully, her eyes swollen from tears, meeting Ginny's reddened-blue orbs for what she told herself would be the last time._

_Looking back at her, the ache in her chest growing abominably, Ginny knew there was no use arguing with her. She stood rooted to the spot where they had kissed, while Hermione broke their wordless gaze and walked past Ginny briskly, brushing past her and lingering for the tiniest moment as their hands touched. _

_As the door swung slowly shut, she sunk to her knees and fell apart in her own arms. The fire in Ginevra Weasley left with the soft clicking of the door at her back._

xXxXxXxXx

Ginny Weasley woke in a cold sweat, her own arms enveloping her thin, pale shoulders, an echoing reminder of the dream she had just had.

"More like a bloody nightmare…"She muttered to herself as she rubbed her clammy hands on her face. "That's what you get for writing in that ruddy diary." The way her eyes itched and burned made her realize sweat wasn't the only thing glistening on her pale cheeks in the moonlight.

She sighed heavily and collapsed back down onto the old futon, unraveling the sweat-soaked sheet from her long body so the cool night air caressed her form, raising small goose bumps as it blew noiselessly across the flat. It had been just over eight years since that day, why did her thoughts suddenly begin to betray her this way, making her relive some of the most painful memories she had locked inside?

_'Probably some damned dementors off wandering around.'_ She rationalized internally, as rouge packs of dementors had become a common occurrence now that Voldemort's forces were in top form, and he granted them freedom to move wherever they pleased, preying upon Wizard-folk and Muggles alike.

Although the clock read only 4:30 AM, she knew no more sleep would come to her that night. She rolled unceremoniously off of the futon, and began to peel away the offending garments which still clung, wet and cold, to her body. Hot showers always made her feel better; she would set the water to nearly scalding in order to burn her skin, numbing her body and mind to all feeling. After burning away what seemed to be roughly 3 layers of skin, she emerged, her pale skin blotchy and raw from the heat, but she felt better.

As she crossed the room towards the old wardrobe, she stopped short in front of the long mirror leaning against the wall to the left of her futon, covered haphazardly with an old, frayed cloak. She hadn't bothered hanging it up seeing as she would probably have to move again soon anyways. She had never cared much for her appearance, but her mother wouldn't hear of her only daughter not even owning a mirror! She smiled at the memory of Molly Weasley making a fuss over her, casting various charms and enchantments that would cause the mirror to critique her appearance, and give suggestions on clothing and makeup that were eerily reminiscent of Molly herself.

Ginny had never been much of a girly-girl, preferring to spend her days playing Quidditch with her brothers in the orchard opposed to gardening, baking and knitting around the house alongside Molly. Her mother had never wholeheartedly approved of her choice of career, perhaps she had expected her to follow in her footsteps, settling down and raising a family as a stay at home witch. In these dark times, raising a family seemed damn near impossible anyways, she couldn't fathom how her mother had managed in the first war. It took a different kind of strength, she supposed, to stay at home and stubbornly raise children, sheltering and protecting them from a world full of darkness, than it did to go out into that darkness and fight to rid the world of it.

She shook her head lightly, recalling her thoughts to the present. A small pool of water had formed around her feet, and her hair had begun to dry in odd clumps stemming from her scalp.

"Might as well have a go, Mum would be furious if she saw the state of me right now…" She mumbled, and her mouth twitched at the corners with the barest shadow of a smile. She reached forward and removed the cloak with her right arm as her towel fell to her feet, and before the battered garment had hit the floor the iron-wrought border around the top moved swiftly into the appearance of narrowed eyes, while the bottom part of the border slid up into the representation of a crude frown, which expressed it's displeasure by picking apart Ginny's appearance with the mercy of a Hungarian Horntail.

"Ginevra Molly Weasley!" It shrilled, in a perfect imitation of her mother's distraught voice. "You look absolutely terrible! You haven't been eating, I can count your ribs and your hips are jutting out like chicken wings! Your skin is all blotchy, what have you done? It looks like a nasty rash has spread all over you, even up to your face! What's happened to your beautiful hair, oh, Ginny, I told you not to cut it all off! Now it's all uneven and lanky, it look's like a bunch badly dried red-grass plastered to your head! Honestly dear, you haven't been getting much sleep either; I can see the circles under your eyes! And your posture is horrendous! You'll be having back problems in no time, slouching along like a mountain troll!"

"Sorry, Mum… I don't' have much time for that stuff…" She shifted uncomfortably under the mirror's scrutiny, covering herself with her pale, toned arms. In the suddenness of the mirrors tirade, she hadn't had much time to be modest and cover herself like she usually would have.

"Well there's no excuse for not taking care of yourself! Once all this war rubbish has blown over, you'll have to look your best, with all you kids grown up I'll need some grandchildren to fuss over in place of you! You'll have to clean yourself up or no proper Wizard will ever look twice at you, dear! I just want the best for you!" It reprimanded, shifting its eyes into what seemed like a hopeful gaze, peering up at Ginny who began to frown down upon it.

"Right, Mum, I'll get right on that." She answered, reaching down to pick up the cloak that she wished she had kept over the mirror in the first place. As she extended her arm downward, however, a new onslaught of critiques spilled forth from the enchanted mirror.

"GINEVRA, WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME ARE ALL THOSE MARKS ON YOUR BEAUTIFUL SKIN?" The mirror bellowed, its metal eyes narrowing dangerously. "DON'T THEY TEACH YOU PROPER HEALING SPELLS IN THAT PLACE? YOU'LL NEVER BE RID OF THEM, LOOK AT THEM, LITTERING, POLLUTING YOUR ARMS…YOUR STOMACH…YOUR LEGS…EVERYWHERE! HONESTLY, WHAT WOUL-"

The mirror was cut off by the unceremonious replacement of the cloak, and the sudden silence of the room was unnerving at first. Although she didn't like to admit it, she did get rather lonely spending each night on her own in her flat.

She looked down at her body, noticing her normal, pale complexion had returned in full force after her body had cooled down a bit. The scars that covered her body were just a part of the job. She knew healing spells; "_Episkey_" had to be one of the first things she learned in the Auror training program, back when the Ministry of Magic had still been intact and united against the Dark Lord. She got an odd sense of satisfaction, letting the nicks, cuts, scrapes and burns she sustained in the line of duty heal on their own time. Each one had a story, a memory, and each one represented an experience that had made her stronger, more seasoned and able to fight against Voldemort's forces.

She traced her long, slender finger along the deep groove that ran from the left-hand side of her jaw halfway down her neck, a memento from a well placed cutting curse fired by a Death Eater a few years back that had narrowly missed her jugular.

She moved further down to the outside of her right shoulder, where a shiny red burn caused the skin to stretch tautly over her flesh, a souvenir from a vicious jet of fiendfyre that she had narrowly dodged just over a year ago. Not like any known healing spell would have mended the skin properly there anyways; even the most skilled Medi-wizards of the age had yet to come up with ways to heal bits of skin and flesh that have been cursed off by dark magic.

She slid her hand down her pale, freckled stomach, feeling the assorted abrasions and shallow grooves that decorated her lower abdomen, courtesy of shrapnel from a blasting curse that sent red-hot shards of metal and glass into her flesh during a battle at a Muggle cathedral, many which had to be painstakingly removed by hand lest she risk accidentally sealing the foreign bits underneath her skin.

She continued down her body, running her hands down her backside to her lower thigh, where she encountered the not-yet familiar absence of flesh on the back of her left thigh. Less than two weeks ago, she had knelt beside her fallen comrade, frantically casting healing spells and staunching the flow of blood from a grievous wound that Katie Bell had sustained to her chest. In the chaos of the fight, a Death Eater had managed to banish part of her flesh from that area. No doubt their intention had been to banish her entire leg, or perhaps banish her entirely, but the effect was still immensely painful and had resulted in Ginny being forced to apparate Katie and herself back to Headquarters for medical attention. It had felt like a razor sharp spoon had been dug into her flesh, scooping it roughly away from her femur just underneath her left buttock. The location of the mark would have been rather humorous if she could forget how much it had hurt, and how Katie had died in her arms before the healers could administer a blood-replenishing potion to counteract the loss of blood from the cursed wounds caused by '_Sectumsempra_'.

Katie had been her working partner ever since she completed her training, not to mention fellow chaser back in their days at Hogwarts. The older girl had always been a role model for her, a trustworthy partner, and most importantly, a dear friend. Ginny knew full well the curse that killed her had been cast at her own back, and it would be Ginny lying underneath the ground if Katie had not stepped in the spells deadly path to protect her. Sometimes she found herself wishing it was her sleeping beneath the dirt and grass, but had to push the thought out of her mind. It would be a disgrace to her loyal friend's memory to covet death like that. She had thought Ginny's life to be worth saving, and as difficult as it was to accept that fact, she had to trust and respect Katie's decision just as she always had.

Despite herself, she felt tears prickling behind her closed eyelids; not all of her scars could be seen or touched. She withdrew her hand from tracing the wound on her thigh and pulled out a pair of black pants and a black turtleneck from the mass of dark garments clustered in her wardrobe. Most everything she owned was black nowadays. She felt safer in dark clothes, just as she felt safer in the darkness, and she was still in a state of mourning over the loss of Katie. With Voldemort's lot on the loose wreaking havoc, deaths were so frequent she was sure there would be a new casualty to mourn soon anyways. She mussed her stringy hair with a small sigh, running her fingers through the stiff red locks to release them from the position they had dried in while she remained in front of the mirror. Not like she particularly cared what she looked like; the enchanted mirror her mother had given her seemed to have noticed that.

Once she finished getting dressed and downed several mugs of coffee, Ginny donned a considerably less shabby cloak than the one thrown over the mirror, grabbed her wand from the small table in the middle of her flat and walked swiftly out the door. She stood in the small space outside her door that was free of protective enchantments, and with a small pop apparated to the Headquarters of what remained of the loyal faction of the Ministry of Magic.

XxXxXxXxX

Although she had departed from her flat rather early, the bustle of activity at HQ was overwhelming, as always. She knew the war against Voldemort never slept, and there were plenty of nights that she didn't either. Since Voldemort's takeover of the official Ministry building, those who remained loyal to the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore's Army, or were just in support of Harry's crusade against Voldemort in general relocated their center of operations to an abandoned steel mill a few kilometers outside of London. The building was large, but the protective enchantments surrounding it were a force to be reckoned with. Harry himself was secret-keeper for the Fidelus Charm surrounding the mill, not to mention a souped-up anti-apparition spell which recognized those allowed to apparate within the walls by samples of blood given beforehand; anyone who attempted to magic themselves in or out of the mill without this blood-offering would meet a messy end in which the ruthless enchantment would take all of the trespasser's blood from their body by force. It was crude, and considered barbaric by some, but no one could deny the safety granted by knowing any unfriendly beings that appeared within or attempted to escape the walls of HQ would immediately explode into a bloody pulp.

A sea of desks and tables covered the main floor, some groaning under the weight of papers and important documents, others home to hundreds of dark detectors, Sneakoscopes, and other assorted devices that detected dark magic or unfriendly intentions within the vicinity. The infirmary was located immediately to the left of the apparition point, as many of the incoming witches and wizards were apparating themselves or others to safety and were in dire need of medical attention. It wasn't uncommon to materialize in the middle of a pool of blood, and see the streaked trail that led to the intensive care unit when arriving at Headquarters. The healers who had managed to escape the raid on St. Mungo's made up the core of Medi-wizards and Medi-witches who tended to those wounded in the resistance.

Large steel beams were planted every few yards, supporting the floor above Ginny's head, which had a smaller main floor and walkways extending outwards to an outer edge with which the walls had been filled with magically expanded holding cells for those caught partaking in Dark activity, or, on a rare occasion, a Death Eater that hadn't been killed by the vengeful Aurors.

She walked from the designated apparition spot across the main floor to the far right side of the building where the Aurors gathered to be briefed. She was greeted by the familiar low, rumbling voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Morning, Weasley, you're in a bit early today."

"Yeah…couldn't sleep." She shrugged, with an attempt at a weak smile.

"Ah, yes… understandable. Grab a cuppa and be back here by seven, then. Recent casualties and injuries have resulted in some new partnering arrangements…not the most pleasant thing to hear first thing in the morning, but war has never been known to be overtly considerate of such things." He finished with the ghost of a frown on his face, and she knew he felt the loss of each Auror as a personal blow.

Although Harry was the poster-child and rallying point for the war, Shacklebolt was the foundation on which the entire resistance was built. He had been fighting Voldemort ever since the first war back in the seventies, and his knowledge of combating the Dark Arts had been an invaluable resource for the younger, less experienced Aurors in learning how to better defend themselves and others.

"Yes, Sir." She replied with a stiff salute, and turned to walk to the corner where a small table had been filled with a rag-tag assortment of coffee-makers and various mismatched mugs and cups. She selected a large brown mug from clutter, and proceeded to fill it with the steaming dark black liquid that seemed to be the only thing keeping her going most days. She hadn't bothered with cream or sugar since her days at Hogwarts. Ginny had become accustomed to the sharp taste of the brew; it seemed to jerk her senses awake, and dulling it down with milk and sweetener seemed like a travesty. She was startled out of her thoughts by an airy, light voice behind her.

"Hello Ginny, how are you feeling?"

Luna Lovegood.

"I heard about Katie, I was very sad to hear of her passing. She was always a very brave, kind woman." She said sadly, selecting a rather chipper pink and yellow mug from the assortment and proceeding to pour her own coffee.

_'You have no idea…'_ Ginny mused internally.

"I'm alright, thanks…how are those new charms coming along?" She said quickly, eager to steer conversation away from the raw wound inside her that was Katie Bell.

Luna, like her mother before her, experimented with new spells and charms to aid in the war. The job was extremely dangerous, as a single miscalculation in a spell formulae can cause serious injury or death. Luna's mother had learned this the hard way, and Luna knew full well the dangers of her work. Although she was rather strange at times, Luna had grown into an exceedingly brilliant young witch and the anti-apparition ward that enveloped Headquarters had been the result of collaboration between Luna and another extraordinarily brilliant young witch of their age…

"Oh, quite well, we're currently tweaking a new twist on the Patronus charm…" She trailed off, staring dreamily off into space as she so often tended to do.

"Yeah? What's that like?" Ginny inquired eagerly. Dementors were nasty creatures, and it was harder and harder to dredge up happy memories to keep her Patronus shining brightly in times of need.

Without returning her gaze to Ginny, Luna began to explain the technicalities of the experimental charm. "Well, since Dementors feed off of despair and fear, we've come up with a kind of reverse Patronus charm that gives them just that. Instead of pushing your happiest thoughts to the surface and casting a Patronus based off that, you can choose from the unhappy memories dredged up by their presence and cast a type of bubble of despair around them, effectively enveloping them inside a cage of fear and distress that they won't even struggle to escape. Many people have trouble thinking of a happy memory nowadays, anyhoo." She stated with a wan smile, "So ultimately, when under the pressure of an assault by Dementors, you are using their own powers against them, while purging your own mind of the painful memories that are forced into the foreground of your consciousness."

"Wow, Luna… that's bloody brilliant. Can't wait to have a go with it, I've been having trouble with those bastards lately…" She said admirably. Despite her less than assuring first-impression, Luna never ceased to amaze her with her innovative solutions to new challenges the war brought to the table.

"Thanks Ginny. You guys are awfully brave out there. It's not all me, though, I have a right bit of trouble with Arithmacy sometimes, if it wasn't for Hermione I'm most certain I would have ended up making the same mistake my mother did when I was younger." She stated bluntly, stirring a bit of sugar into her coffee.

Ginny winced at the mention of Hermione, but Luna didn't seem to notice.

"Quite brilliant, isn't she? I wonder if her children will end up being as clever as her or a bit thick like Ronald…" She continued, oblivious to Ginny's sudden air of unease. "Not like now is the proper time to be thinking of starting a family anyways… she's nearly always in the lab, I've even found her sleeping on a cot in one of the research rooms at night. Quite a shame, she seems awfully lonely with Ronald being gone on assignments all the time."

Despite her discomfort on the subject, this last bit of information piqued her interest.

"Oh…are they having problems or something then?" She asked smoothly, leaning casually against the cold sheet metal wall.

"I wouldn't rightly know, she doesn't talk much about things besides our work," Luna shrugged nonchalantly, "Ronald is your brother, after all, why don't you talk to him?"

"Yeah…yeah I'll do that…" She responded half-heartedly, knowing she would probably never get the chance. He had been gone for several weeks on an assignment with his partner, Dean. Even if she did, she wasn't sure she'd want to take it. What business of hers was it anyways? Hermione had basically ignored her from her own graduation onwards, treating Ginny like a mere friendly acquaintance, like nothing had ever happened between them. It frustrated her immensely, but she could never bring herself to discuss that day in early June with Hermione again. Once the door to the sixth year girls' dormitories closed behind her, she resolved to just leave it alone. She loved her, more than anything, and if she wanted to be left alone, so be it. Ginny had always been stubborn in her decisions, so she had buried her feelings for the older girl along with her heart that day. She had almost lost her mind when she was asked to be a bridesmaid in the wedding ceremony. She didn't accept, of course, making excuses of an unavoidable assignment and no one had pestered her further. Just because she had refused the formal invitation didn't mean she hadn't shown up, eventually…

_She had disillusioned herself outside the reception, entering the old dance-hall through a service door in the back of the building. She knew she had to see it for herself to truly accept that Hermione would never be hers. Ginny watched them for what seemed like an eternity, revolving on the spot, Hermione's head resting on her brother's broad, strong shoulder. All of her family was there that night, although they were unaware of her presence. Her eyes lingered on Hermione's face, her expression seemingly pleasant, happy, but there was something missing in her eyes. They were half-closed in what most would take as an expression of peacefulness, but even from across the room, Ginny could see the lack of presence behind the creamy-brown depths, like she was only half there. What had happened to her? Hermione…she looked so beautiful and serene. Ginny knew better though. She remembered the endless depths of love and desire that churned and toiled behind her eyes, when they had lain, entwined; when the fire inside of her had burned so recklessly it rivaled the fires of Hell itself…_

_She was stirred from her thoughts by a strong, but gentle voice in her ear._

_"Hello, Ginny… thought you couldn't make it?" he asked, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth._

_"Bloody hell, Harry, you scared the bogies out of me!" Ginny breathed, swatting his arm with her hand. "I…well, I'm on duty, but I wouldn't feel right if I didn't at least pop in for a moment…he is my big brother…" she trailed off, her gaze wandering back to the dance floor._

_"I know, Gin. Don't worry, I won't tattle on you. You might be able to pull the wool over everyone else's eyes with that tricky disillusionment charm of yours, but not the great Harry Potter!" He grinned, flexing his arms in an imitation of a Muggle bodybuilder he once saw on the telly back on Privet Drive._

_"You're a great prat, you know that?" She replied, smiling slightly despite the sadness that enveloped her heart as she continued watching the dancing couple weave across the tiled floor._

_"Well, yeah…" He trailed off, scratching his head, "But we both know I haven't got shite on Ron."_

_Ginny snorted loudly. _

_"You got that right, for once." She answered, finally allowing a small grin to grace her features. She didn't blame Ron for any of this. He was her big brother, he loved her and she loved him in return. He had no idea what she and his…well…his wife, had gotten up to in their school days. Not like she had any intention of changing that, either. She knew he would take care of her. He had always been so good at taking care of the ones he loved. _

_"Well, I better get back to the festivities!" He said jauntily, waggling his eyebrows at her playfully. "I probably look like a nutter standing over here in the shadows talking to a wall."_

_"Wouldn't be the first time firewhiskey has gotten the best of you, mate." She taunted. "Now go or all the good ones will be taken!" She said, motioning to a group of young women being heartily entertained by her twin brothers._

_"Right you are, Gin. If you change your mind about…you know, showing yourself," He whispered behind the back of his hand, "There's plenty of the great Harry to go around." He finished with a pointed wink._

_"Oh, bugger off, Potter. I've got work to do… Not everyone can lollygag around drinking all night. There's still a war going on out there." She stated, stiffening her posture and looking into his bottle-green eyes._

_"I know that… Don't let it wear you too thin, Ginny." He said, sobering his expression. "We've got to keep on enjoying our lives best we can. As long as there's love in the world, that Dark dung bag will never triumph." He said with what would have been ferocity, had the firewhiskey not given his eyes a vacant, glazed expression, while his attempt at a scowl looked more like he'd just eaten a particularly funny tasting Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean._

_She smiled at his choice of words. 'Dark dung bag…honestly. This is supposed to be the Wizard who defeats Voldemort.' She thought mutely to herself. _

_"Well, you better get back to the bottle, looks like the rim is cooling off a bit. Make me proud, Potter." She said, sliding along the shadowy wall to the back door, not before casting a final glance over her left shoulder as she slowly rotated the knob. Hermione's questioning gaze raked over the area where she stood, and if she hadn't been sure her charm rendered her completely invisible, she would have sworn she was looking straight into her eyes. Ginny tore her gaze away from the one woman she could not banish from her mind, and closed the door on Hermione once again._

She was jolted back to reality by a powdery-smelling substance being cast around her head and shoulders. She shook her head vigorously, swatting the air around her head to clear her vision and find the source of the offending cloud.

"Its okay, Ginny, it's just Wrackspurt repellent, developed it myself back at Hogwarts. I could tell by the vacant expression and glazed look in your eyes they were having a go at you. They should be just about cleared out by now, though." Luna said determinedly, narrowing her eyes over her silver wire framed spectacles, as if daring another Wrackspurt to enter the vicinity.

"I…er…Th-thanks, Luna," Ginny stammered, looking up at the clock bolted to the sheet metal above her head, "Sorry, I've got a meeting with Kingsley, I gotta go. See you, Luna." She blurted, grabbing her lukewarm mug of coffee and making a beeline for Kingsley's desk.

"Bye, Ginny. Come on up to have a look at the new Patronus sometime." She said dreamily, with a vague wave of her pale hand.

Ginny waved back behind her as she weaved and bobbed through the crowds of people that had arrived since her initial appearance, nodding politely to those who acknowledged her and determinedly avoiding everyone else. She reached Kingsley's desk in the nick of time, only to find her boss deep in conversation with a familiar tall redhead.

"Ron!" She exclaimed loudly, causing him to turn around in surprise.

"Hey, Gin! I missed ya!" He grinned, enveloping her in a warm hug, and ruffling her hair like he always used to when they were growing up.

"Ey, geroff me!" She yelled, her cries muffled by his arm wrapped around her face.

His grin faded as he released her. "How've you been? I heard about…you know, Katie," He mumbled, his ears reddening slightly as he scuffed the toe of his boot on the concrete floor. "I'm sorry, really. I'm glad you're okay, Gin."

"If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't be." She said softly, and began her own examination of her battle-worn boots. "So are you done with your post in Scotland?" She inquired, raising her chin slightly to meet his light-blue orbs.

"Yeah, well got into a bit of a scrape with a few damned Death Eaters, but we found their scummy little hideout. Dean got banged up pretty bad though; he's over in the infirmary getting patched up. Might take awhile, by the looks of it… he got hit with some pretty nasty curses back there. I don't think we're the only ones experimenting with new spells to bring into the war." He said grimly, setting his jaw stiffly.

"Yeah...we've figured as much." She responded, startled by sound of someone clearing their throat behind her brother.

"If you're finished with your family reunion, I have your next assignment." Kingsley rumbled, but she could see the good natured twinkle behind his eyes.

"Sorry, Sir." They said in unison, moving forward to be addressed properly by their boss.

"Well, due to Auror Bell's death," Ginny twitched slightly, "and Auror Thomas's recent injuries, circumstances have brought you two together as partner's for the time being, assuming there are no objections on either of your parts?" He said, raising his left eyebrow slightly.

"No, Sir." They replied, again in unison.

"Good. Our Espionmages have discovered an unusual amount of dark energy radiating from an underground bunker in rural Wales that has been thought, until recently, to be abandoned since World War II. We're sending several small recon teams of Aurors to infiltrate the foxhole, and find out what exactly is causing such an unusual amount of magical disturbance. You'll be working with Aurors Johnson and Spinnet, Team Chase, and Aurors Wood and Finnigan, Team Beat. Your codename will be Team Seek. Your unit leaves tomorrow at dusk. Here are each of your copies of the known layout and schematics of the bunker," He said sternly, handing them each a fat stack of parchment tied together with a thin leather strap, "Teams Chase and Beat should be arriving shortly to discuss tactics and strategies."

"Sir, yes sir!" They said, before saluting Shacklebolt and turning on their heels, Ginny heading towards a vacant table, while Ron made to go up the stairs to the second floor.

"Well, I reckon I'm going to nip up to the lab for a bit, say hello to Hermione and all. If the lot of 'em show up anytime soon just come on up and get me, yeah?" He said with a questioning look as he began ascending the rusty metal staircase.

"Yeah sure, see you in a bit." She replied with a weak smile, and watched him pound up the stairs like a schoolboy, his grin widening with every step he took before he turned the corner towards the lab and disappeared out of sight.

She gave an audible sigh, lifting her mug to her lips and draining the remainder of the now cold coffee.

_'Bugger.'_She thought.

She had never thought she'd end up being partners with her brother, Ron. Not to mention him being the husband of the woman who… well, nevertheless, she had a job to do. She loved her brother fiercely, but she was used to spending very little time with him due to opposite assignments and overlapping timeframes.

_'This should be bloody well interesting.'_ She mused, tracing the rim of her mug with a slender finger.

She squinted upwards, between the walkways above her head, willing herself to see the sky beyond the frantic crisscross of steel beams and sheet metal hundreds of feet above. Were there things at work here beyond her control? Ginevra Weasley didn't believe in fate. But perhaps, despite her misgivings, fate believed in her.

A/N: Well I tried to make this on a bit longer, hope it isn't completely worthless. Reviews appreciated, it's nice to know when people are reading!


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